I was in such high spirits at supper that M. de Grimaldi thought I had won everything from Veronique, and I let him think so.  I promised to dine with him the next day, and I kept my word.  After dinner I gave him a long letter for Rosalie, whom I did not expect to see again except as Madame Petri, though I took care not to let the marquis know what I thought.

In the evening I supped with the two sisters, and I made myself equally agreeable to both of them.  When Veronique was alone with me, putting my hair into curl-papers, she said that she loved me much more now that I behaved discreetly.

“My discretion,” I replied, “only means that I have given up the hope of winning you.  I know how to take my part.”

“Your love was not very great, then?”

“It sprang up quickly, and you, Veronique, could have made it increase to a gigantic size.”

She said nothing, but bit her lip, wished me good night and left the room.  I went to bed expecting a visit from Annette, but I waited in vain.  When I rang the next morning the dear girl appeared looking rather sad.  I asked her the reason.

“Because my sister is ill, and spent the whole night in writing,” said she.

Thus I learnt the reason of her not having paid me a visit.

“Do you know what she was writing about?”

“Oh, no!  She does not tell me that kind of thing, but here is a letter for you.”

I read through the long and well-composed letter, but as it bore marks of craft and dissimulation it made me laugh.  After several remarks of no consequence she said that she had repulsed me because she loved me so much and that she was afraid that if she satisfied my fancy she might lose me.

“I will be wholly yours,” she added, “if you will give me the position which Rosalie enjoyed.  I will travel in your company, but you must give me a document, which M. de Grimaldi will sign as a witness, in which you must engage to marry me in a year, and to give me a portion of fifty thousand francs; and if at the end of a year you do not wish to marry me, that sum to be at my absolute disposal.”

She stipulated also that if she became a mother in the course of a year the child should be hers in the event of our separating.  On these conditions she would become my mistress, and would have for me all possible love and kindness.

This proposal, cleverly conceived, but foolishly communicated to me, shewed me that Veronique had not the talent of duping others.  I saw directly that M. de Grimaldi had nothing to do with it, and I felt sure that he would laugh when I told him the story.

Annette soon came back with the chocolate, and told me that her sister hoped I would answer her letter.

“Yes, dear,” said I, “I will answer her when I get up.”

I took my chocolate, put on my dressing-gown, and went to Veronique’s room.  I found her sitting up in bed in a negligent attire that might have attracted me if her letter had not deprived her of my good opinion.  I sat on the bed, gave her back the letter, and said,—­